I live for obligatory fundraising

"Your face will freeze that way."

Dr. Joe Molesley rolled his eyes into the mirror at the reflection of the girl sprawled out across his bed. She kicked up her feet behind her and wrinkled her nose at him.

"That's just something your Granddad tells you to stop you being so cheeky," he mumbled, jerking impatiently at his tie and scowling again.

"No?! Really?!" she gasped. "And here I've lived thirteen years under the impression that my angry face would rule my destiny…"

Joe snorted in amusement as his daughter draped herself over the end of the bed like she'd fainted. Giving up on his tie for the moment, he pulled his braces up over his shoulders and turned around to stare at his formal suit, hanging on the hook on the back of his door. His eye was caught by a darker patch of fabric on the lapel and he groaned as he realized that the stain from Tom Branson's Guiness last year hadn't come out well.

"They're twisted up, Dad," his daughter informed him, swinging her legs gracefully around to sit up at the edge of his bed.

"What?" he asked, turning around in a circle as he surveyed what he'd managed to put on up to this point. "What's twisted?"

"You are," she replied with a giggle. "And so are your braces. In the back." She made an exasperated face and whispered "Doofus" under her breath.

Joe went selectively deaf and decided to ignore her last comment as he reached around to straighten out his braces. "I bloody hate this."

"Why go then?"

"Because you don't eat, take dance lessons, or purchase new rings for that God awful hole in your nostril if I don't work—"

"Leave off my piercing already—"

"And our esteemed director feels that the endless fundraising benefits from requiring the professional staff to show up at least once a year. So…I live for obligatory fundraising."

"Whatever," she responded. "You'll sneak off as soon as everyone gets pissed and spend the whole evening canoodling with Dori."

"She could drop her calf any day now—-"

"Honestly, Dad! Were you as excited just before I was born?"

"Well…it's a lot more unusual for a giraffe to give birth for a third time in captivity than for a human girl to appear in the middle of a Ruminant Nephrology seminar…"

"I'm thinking of getting a tattoo, you know."

"Over my dead body," he replied absently, taking another stab at his tie.

"I'll just wait until you're off at a Ruminant Nephrology seminar…"

"Hah! For your information, I'm not attending a Ruminant Nephrology seminar this year. Is this straight, Tess?"

With a sigh, she hauled herself off of his bed and walked over to eye his tie. Shaking her head, she pushed it and tightened it until it passed her muster.

"You're a bit hopeless," she informed him.

Before he could reply, they could hear his dad's voice summoning Tess to set the table for tea. With an almighty eye roll, she trudged towards the door.

"Alright! Alright! Keep your shorts on, Granddad!" she yelled in response to his repeated summons.

"Never mind my shorts," his dad's gruff voice replied. "Put out the plates, love, and get the butter from the fridge."

Joe smiled as he listened to their give and take, remembering that his dad hadn't been as tolerant of his cheek when he was thirteen. His daughter had all the spirit of her mother without the cruel streak, and his dad had been as enamored of her as he had been from the moment she was born. Pulling on his jacket, he shot his cuffs and walked out to the sitting room to join his family.

"You let her get away with too much, Dad," he teased. "I'd have had my ear clipped if I'd talked that way to you."

"Aye? Well, it's the father's job to do any ear clipping," Bill Molesley promptly responded, staring at his son from under beetled brows.

"Hello? Sitting right here while you discuss whose job it is to beat me around the head," his daughter said from the table, raising her eyebrow at the two of them.

"Sorry. I've got a fancy dress ball to get to. No time to be beating you around the head. Maybe tomorrow."

"Will you be late?" his dad asked as he put a serving bowl down in front of Tess.

"I hope not. It'll depend on how Dori is doing…." He grinned as his dad just sighed resignedly.

"It's too much to hope that you might have a bit of fun, then?"

"Most likely. Don't give your Granddad any trouble, Tess. Get that essay written."

"I will after I destroy him at cribbage," she promised, shoveling potatoes into her mouth.

"That'll be the day," Bill said with an indulgent smile at his granddaughter.

"I'm off then," Joe announced. His father and daughter turned to look at him, giving him the once over. Tess suddenly burst into giggles.

"What?" he demanded, as her face got red. "What's so funny?"

"You might want to put your shoes on before you go, Son," Bill suggested dryly.

"I was just about to!" he protested, sweeping his eyes around the front room, hoping to spot his plain toed Oxfords lying next to the front door.

"They're in the kitchen, where you left them after you polished them. And where I tripped over them twice getting tea ready."

Joe opened his mouth to reply, then settled on glaring at them as he bustled off in a huff to retrieve his dress shoes.

"Alright, then. Will I do?" he asked, stepping back out into the front room.

"I suppose you'll have to," Tess replied.

"Thanks for that," he said, bending to kiss the top of her head. "Don't stay up too late. Help Granddad with the washing up. No tattoos."

"Spoilsport. You'll probably be home before I go to bed. Because you have no life."

"God willing and no surprises," he intoned, winking at his dad.

As he fetched his overcoat from the closet in the entryway, he listened to the murmur of their voices and wondered when his daughter had gotten too old to kiss him goodbye. Lingering near the front door, he heard her lowered voice as he started to shut it behind him.

"Was Dad always so weird?"

He latched the door on his dad's bark of laughter and wished with all his heart he was sitting down to tea with them rather than rushing into the night to put in an appearance among the well heeled animals lovers of south Yorkshire.

"Do it for the giraffes," he told himself sternly. "It's just another typical fundraiser in a long line of fundraisers, world without end."

With one last longing look at his dad's cottage which had been his family's home for the last ten years, he climbed into his Dacia and headed towards the Yorkshire Wildlife Park. If nothing else, he'd be able to spend some quality time with his favorite pregnant giraffe….